iNeed Cash
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: Pim, well, she ... you'll see.


Disclaimer: Do I own PotF? Nope, Nada, No.

**Author's Note**: Welcome to the second chapter. Yes, number two. Now, before you start questioning my math ability to count above one, your preschool teacher's, or look online to see if there really is a number "dirf," relax. You'll find the odd-numbered chapters in the iCarly FanFics under the title "Sam and Socko's Cousin;" even-numbered chapters will be found right here. See? Simple explanation. Now, on to Chapter B - I mean, Chapter Two.

iNeed Cash

Chapter Two: Cash Flow Crisis

by CraftyNotepad

Lloyd and Barbara Diffy snuggled on their couch, another romantic afternoon watching The Weather Network, munching on Rat Snacks (a popular 22nd Century trail mix comprised of smokey cheese balls, peanut butter filled pretzels, honey roasted sunflower seeds, and jelly beans - delish!), and enjoying a rare moment of calm in their lives, now that they were stranded in the early 21st Century due to a breakdown of their rental time machine. They had just stopped to do a little shopping, along with their mostly responsible son, Phil, now in grade ten, their daughter, Pim, two years his junior, and, totally unexpectedly, a stowaway from Neolithic days, their "pet" caveman, who they named "Curtis." Imagine if you had to fix your laptop back in 1899. Exactly the sort of challenge Lloyd Diffy faced every day in his attempts to repair their damage ride so they could return to the year 2121. Little wonder that he was taking a break from such a daunting challenge with a little downtime with his beloved wife.

Stampeding down the stairs of their modest two story home in Pickford, California, was a blonde-haired daughter that only parents could love.

"PIM! Don't run in the house!"

"Right, Dad," agreed Pim, never breaking her pace as she spun around the living room to go through the kitchen, slamming the backdoor behind her.

"She's up to something."

"Likely. What's the weather like in Singapore tomorrow?"

*SLAM!* Pim galloped back indoors, this time with a large fire extinguisher in her arms.

"Pim?" her mother reluctantly asked.

"Everything's fine, Mom. Nothing to see here. Totally normal," assured her daughter, as always.

"Lloyd, I think we should go check."

"You heard her - 'situation normal.' Have some more Rat Snacks, Barb."

"Lloyd, she was hauling one of those ancient fire suppression canisters. Aren't you worried?"

"Do you smell smoke?"

"Well, no. No, I don't."

"Then now's not the time to worry. She's probably just doing a project for school."

Clouds of CO2 could be seen escaping down the staircase from upstairs.

"See? Nothing to worry about," assured Papa Diffy.

In her bedroom, Pim sighed. Not from boredom, which regularly pestered her in this backwater century - why couldn't they have broken down with the ancient Vikings? They understood her drive for power, her thirst for carnage. No, she was stuck in pea-brained Pickford, land of the truly annoying. All true, but that wasn't her dilemma presently; money was. Cash, moolah, dough, bread, cabbage ... now, she was getting hungry. Must focus. Pim had been trying to make the best of her intolerable situation by taking up a hobby: World Domination. Problem was, that wasn't easy on her allowance, so she had to ... fund raise ... and sometimes, mostly, her funds were tapped dry when her schemes backfired or when her big brother and his present day best friend/girlfriend poked their noses into where they didn't belong.

Pim put down the empty extinguisher. One crisis averted, one of many. Things hadn't been going smoothly as of late and it wasn't as if there was anyone competent she could rely on. Like out of an old mystery movie, the younger Diffy pulled on a volume innocently residing in her bookshelf. Without fanfare, her bedroom door closed and locked while part of her wall spun around, revealing a raised platform, desk, computer screens and her own personal insignia for her future global monarchy. Grand dream, but right now the encrypted email waiting in her mailbox was demanding the next installment payment for the abandoned rubber tree plantation she was purchasing as a training camp for her army of attack squirrels. Originally, those tree rats with furry tails ahd sold well in Pickford's factory district, out performing those so-called vicious guard dogs, while working for mere peanuts. Then, winter came, and hibernation raised its ugly head. Pim needed someplace warm to continue training the rodents, and this failed South American plantation suited her fine - it was just that she was a little thin on cash this month and the bank was demanding payment in 24 little hours. Pim was desperate. Hide! Neither you, nor your wallet is safe whenever that happens.

As for Pim, she had to focus, but she was distracted by one of her computer screens running a rerun of her favorite web show. On her radar because it had been steadily climbing in viewership since its inception, Pim had a real eye for potential. Of course, having 21-21 hindsight didn't hurt, either, but it wasn't paying the bills. Not yet, anyway, and she needed cold cash right now. Pim Diffy knew what she'd have to do. There's only so many ways a young girl can get her hands on a lot of cash in this dumb century. Yeah, she could really relate to Sam when it came to being short on money, meat and mayhem. Didin't hurt that she was a fellow blonde, too.


End file.
